Suppi's Revenge
by B2
Summary: Nakuru has tormented Suppi long enough.
1. Suppi Doesn't Get Mad, He Gets Even

For Sakura

For Sakura

Part I: Suppi Doesn't Get Mad, He Gets Even

"Suppi-chan!" Nakuru sang cheerily. She pranced into the room, a large tray in her hands. "Suppi!"

The tone in Nakuru's voice—a peculiar ring of sunshine, innocence, and, "I've-got-toothsome-sweets-to-up-your-glucose-levels-dangerously-high"—would have caused the little animal to fly hell for leather out of the room. Fortunately for Nakuru, however, Spinel lay sprawled out on the plush velvet divan, asleep in a warm pool of autumn sunshine. 

Nakuru set her tray on the table and leaned down, poking him gingerly in his stomach. "Suppi-chan," she crooned. The little animal did not respond. Instead, he turned over onto his side and giggled slightly.

Nakuru jabbed at Suppi again. He rolled over again with a vague, unintelligible mutter. Nakuru straightened up, tilting her head to one side in puzzlement. "Suppi never sleeps this deeply. I wonder what he's dreaming about. . ." 

As if on cue, Spinel mumbled, "Beg, Cerberus . . . Let's see you beg. . ."

"Suppi-chan, wake up." Nakuru shook him gently. Spinel did not stir. "Suppi-chan. . ."

After several more attempts to wake Spinel, Nakuru rose, pouting. "Mou. And I baked these macaroons especially for Suppi. I guess I'll have to wait. . ." 

As she turned towards the door, her eyes fell on the mahogany commode that stood beside the threshold. Coiled neatly on the shining surface was a length of twine. New and long, perfect for anchoring a kite, wrapping a package, binding a roast, or. . . A mischievous gleam suddenly appeared in Nakuru's eyes. 

Binding a roast. . .

She stole a sly look at the prone form upon the divan. Without further ado, Nakuru snatched the twine up, rapidly unrolling it. The twine quivered in her grasp, stretched taut between her hands. 

"Oh, Suppi-chan. . ."

**********

The last thing Spinel remembered was the manic glint in Nakuru's eyes as she drew the knots tight. After that, mercifully, everything dissolved into a blur. He only recalled waking up the next day in the soup tureen, a frilly doll's apron (where did that come from, anyway, hadn't Nakuru gotten rid of his dolls long ago?) hung askew over his stomach and an origami flower pinned behind one ear. It was fortunate that he woke at that moment, otherwise he might have drowned in the split pea soup that Nakuru—blissfully oblivious as usual—was about to ladle into the tureen. As it were, Spinel was only splashed with a few spoonfuls of the stuff (he still smelt of pea soup and his ears were a little tender still), so, relatively speaking, he got away unscathed.

But he was fuming inwardly.

Normally Spinel was a very quiet, patient creature. "Saint Suppi," Nakuru had dubbed him after a particularly hair-turning episode that would have earned Nakuru a penance of six hundred "Hail Marys" if she were Catholic. But Spinel was running out of patience. This was the fifth time within a fortnight that Nakuru pulled one of her stunts. (The last time, Nakuru had just learned how to use a lasso, and managed, rodeo style, to bring Spinel down—a feat that Eriol later said was quite thrilling.) 

Suppi was indeed saintly, but he wasn't aspiring for martyrdom. And last night's episode was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back.

Yes, Suppi decided grimly, it's payback time. 

**********

"Guess what Eriol made me!" Nakuru warbled, skipping into the library. 

Spinel did not glance up from his book. "What is it, Nakuru?" he asked.

"A new outfit! Isn't it fabulous?" Nakuru pirouetted about the room. 

"Very nice," Spinel remarked, turning a page.

"Tell me, don't I look divine?" Nakuru demanded as she danced over to Spinel. She snatched Spinel up and whirled him around. "Don't I look stunning?"

"If you put me down, maybe I can tell you," Spinel answered. Nakuru immediately deposited the tiny creature onto the sofa and struck a graceful pose.

"So, how do I look?" she asked demurely. 

"Typical—shamelessly garish and tawdry."

"Suppi!" Nakuru exclaimed indignantly. "That's not nice! I'll have you know that Eriol copied this design from the latest fall issue of Paris _Vogue_!"

Spinel snorted. 

"You haven't a particle of style, Suppi," sniffed Nakuru, slightly miffed.

Spinel shrugged. "You know, you really should stop wearing girls' clothes," Spinel began.

"Why should I? I'm sexless, remember? It doesn't matter what I wear!"

"No, I guess it doesn't," Spinel conceded after a moment's thought. Especially if said sexless being would have thrown a fit if he couldn't wear girls' clothing.

"Besides, I look good in girls' clothes. Not everyone call pull off an outfit like this."

On this point, Spinel was forced to agree. Yes, not everyone could pull off a pair of sequined hot-pants and a fringed bolero jacket. Well, except maybe Sakura-san or a Dallas Cowboy cheerleader.

"I can't wait to show this to To-ya-kun! Won't he be bowled over?" Nakuru continued gleefully.

"Yes, indeed."

Nakuru failed to hear the caustic tone of Spinel's remark. She was busy twisting her long tresses into an elaborate knot. "You know, I just absolutely adore girls' clothing!" she chattered on.

"Even though you're not supposed to," muttered Spinel.

"I think it would be terrible to dress in men's clothing all the time like Eriol," she continued. "How boring it would be to wear pants and shirts, day in and day out. There's absolutely no variety in men's clothing." 

"I wouldn't say that," Spinel protested mildly. 

"But there isn't!" Nakuru insisted. "Button-downs, chinos, jerseys, boxers. . ." Nakuru shuddered. "I can't possibly imagine wearing those drab things every day."

"You should try and see what it's like sometime."

Nakuru looked scandalized. "Me?! That would. . .that would be insane!"

"Actually," Spinel retorted as Nakuru retreated into the living room, "It would be more sane if you did."

**********

Eriol twitched his tie into place. He stepped back, eyeing the mirror critically. 

"Looking very natty, Master," Spinel commented, flitting into the room.

"Thank you, Spinel." 

"I assume a date with Tomoyo-san occasioned this seven-hour primping?"

Eriol nodded absently as he surveyed his reflection. He peered into the mirror, holding the length of his tie away from his shirt for a few moments. Eriol leaned forward, squinting experimentally. "Maybe it's the lighting in this room. . ."

Spinel noted the perplexed look on his master's countenance. "Something wrong, Master?"

"Spinel, do you think this tie goes well with this shirt?" Eriol asked, jerking at the apparel in question. 

"Turn around and face me," the tiny creature commanded. Eriol obeyed. Spinel flew back, his brow furrowed. He fluttered close for a moment, his tiny paw rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Finally, after a few more moments of consideration, Spinel pronounced, "I think that pale blue tie goes well with the white shirt." 

"Wonderful," Eriol said as he slipped into a jacket.

"So—"

"Oh, bugger!" Eriol exclaimed, staring at his sleeve in dismay. "There's lint on the sleeve. Be a good chap and get me the lint brush, will you please? It's on top of the dresser."

Spinel obligingly darted out of the dressing room. In a moment he returned, bearing the heavy wooden brush in his paws. "Thank you," Eriol said as he relieved Spinel of the brush. Eriol immediately set to work on the few slight specks of fluff on his sleeve. 

"That's a new suit, isn't it?" Spinel queried, settling on the edge of a shelf.

"Yes. Mousse, please, Spinel," Eriol requested, his hand stretched out.

"What kind of suit?" Spinel inquired, handing Eriol the bottle. "Ralph Lauren?"

"Armani." Eriol squirted a generous amount of mousse onto his palm and began to work it through his hair. 

The diminutive creature gave Eriol a meaningful look. "You must have a very special date with Tomoyo-san, then." 

"Yes," Eriol replied, a faraway look in his eyes. "We're going to dinner and then to the symphony." He began to hum as he gently patted a splash of cologne onto his cheeks.

"You know," Spinel began, his tone conversational, "Nakuru was saying the other day that he would hate to dress like you."

"Really?" Eriol continued humming. Dress. . .he mused. Yes, Tomoyo-chan would be wearing a lovely gown tonight. A strapless dress; something to set off the creamy pale skin of her bare shoulders. . . That skin, so soft and warm. . . 

"Yes. He said girls' clothing is much cuter and that boys' clothing is really boring."

"Oh. That's nice." Ah yes, clothing. Tomoyo would be wearing clothing. But not for long. Oh no, he would slip off her clothing, piece by piece, and— 

Spinel glanced at his master. The young man's eyes were slightly glazed and a slow trickle of saliva was dribbling down his chin. It's a pity he's wearing a new suit, Spinel thought. Cold water would probably ruin it. But— And Spinel glanced at Eriol again. I'm sure a lascivious Master would not be a fun date for Tomoyo-san—at least early on in the evening, anyway. Poor Tomoyo-san would have her hands full. A little water wouldn't hurt. Master (not to mention Tomoyo-san) will thank me later for this.

**********

Two weeks later, Spinel was in his room, making the final adjustments to his revenge.

Finally, at long last, Spinel was ready. It had taken hours of careful planning and a lot of Eriol's credit cards but now, "Operation: Torture Nakuru" could begin.

The look in Spinel's eyes would have scared the hell out of Nakuru and earned the admiration of Eriol, patent-holder to the "I-have-another-devious-and-nefarious-scheme-for-Sakura-san" expression. 

"It is time," Spinel announced. "Now, Nakuru! Mourn! Wail! Repent! And then weep yourself to death!"

Spinel began cackling madly.

**************************************************************

NEXT INSTALLMENT: 

The consummation of Suppi's revenge! (Notes and acknowledgements at the end.)


	2. The Horror! The Horror!

Part II: The Horror

Part II: The Horror! The Horror!

It was noon on Sunday when Nakuru woke. As usual, she stretched, yawned, scratched herself (where she scratched herself, however, will have to be left to the reader's imagination) and jumped out of bed.

"Let's see. . . " she murmured to herself as she padded over to the wardrobe, "What shall I wear today?"

**********

Good God, what a cry!

Downstairs in the kitchen, Eriol dropped a vase full of flowers. "Gracious, what is that noise?" he hollered to Spinel.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!"

"Either Nakuru is in distress or it's an emergency broadcast test." 

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!"

"Well, we've simply got to stop it!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!"

"Agreed. My ears can't take much more of this."

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!"

"I hope nothing too terrible happened to the dear girl," Eriol said as he and Spinel dashed up the stairs.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!"

"I wouldn't worry about it, Master. You know what a drama queen Nakuru is. It's probably nothing."

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!"

"Yes, but this seems quite serious," Eriol replied. He stopped at the door. "Nakuru!" he shouted, banging on the door. "Nakuru!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!" 

"NAKURU! Please open the door!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!"

"You'll have to break it down," Spinel yelled above the din.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!"

"Right." Eriol rolled up his shirtsleeves and squared his shoulders. "Here goes." Eriol went a few paces back and, running full speed, rammed his shoulder against the door. As Eriol was not blessed with musculature (he was not the beefcake type, but rather the pretty-boy type), this attempt was unsuccessful. Eriol swore—Spinel couldn't hear above the noise, though—and turned to his creation. 

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!"

"I wasn't suggesting that you use brawn to open the door," Spinel said, well aware how deficient his master was in that area. "I was actually thinking of a battering ram or something of the sort." 

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!"

Eriol glared at Spinel. "Well, as there is nothing of that sort here, do you have any other ideas?"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!"

"Wait a moment." Spinel transformed and blasted a ray of ruby-colored light at the door. The door gave way and Eriol and Spinel—back to his former state—stormed into the room.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!"

"Nakuru! What's wrong?" Eriol hollered.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!"

"Yes, Nakuru, what is it?" Spinel chimed in, his brow creased with concern.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!"

"Nakuru, please, tell us what happened!" Eriol yelled.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!"

"I don't think he can hear you!" Spinel bellowed as he flitted over to his master.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!"

"Nakuru!" Eriol pleaded, "Please, tell us what's wrong!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!"

"If he keeps that up, he'll faint," Spinel observed.

This was true. Nakuru's face had turned into an unbecoming shade of purple. Eriol hurried over to Nakuru. "Nakuru. . ."

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!"

"Nakuru!" Eriol thundered. "Please stop screaming and tell us what's the matter!"

Nakuru stopped and turned to Eriol, her eyes brimming over with tears. "E-Eriol. . .s-something terrible has happened. . ."

"What is it?" Eriol demanded, expecting to hear that "Judy and Mary" (Nakuru's favorite band) had disbanded or something of that sort.

"I DON'T HAVE A THING TO WEAR!" Nakuru wailed.

Eriol and Spinel crashed to the floor. 

**********

Eriol gazed wordlessly at the orderly rows of clothing hanging in the wardrobe.

"Isn't this awful?" Nakuru sobbed.

"Who would do such a thing?" Spinel demanded, his tail quivering in indignation. 

"I don't know. . ." Nakuru's bottom lip began to tremble.

"The villain who did this—" And Spinel looked awful threats.

"I-I can't believe that someone would do such a horrible, cruel thing. . ."

"There, there, Nakuru, don't cry," Eriol murmured consolingly as he patted Nakuru on the shoulder.

"B-but, what am I going to do?!" Nakuru blew her nose. "I don't have anything to wear today!" 

"How did these clothes get here in the first place?" Suppi wondered, running a paw over a striped rugby.

"I have no idea." Tears began to gather in her eyes. "Last night, I checked to see if my outfit was in the closet and it was. But then, when I woke up this morning and opened my closet, I found all this. . ." Nakuru sniffed. 

"It's all right, Nakuru," Eriol soothed. 

"And I have a date with To-ya-kun today!" Nakuru bawled, weeping afresh.

"A date?" Spinel quirked his brow. "Since when—"

"Spinel Sun," Eriol warned. "I don't think this is the time—"

"Eriol, what am I going to do?" interrupted Nakuru, looking at him beseechingly.

"Well," Eriol said, "There's really nothing you can do today. I don't have a spare moment to go shopping with you—I have appointments all day. And I'm busy for the next week."

"And you don't trust Nakuru with the credit cards either," Spinel muttered.

Eriol shot his creation an admonitory glance. "Nakuru," Eriol continued, "If you want to go out today, the only thing you can do is wear these clothes." 

"WHAT?! I can't possibly wear these—these things!" Nakuru snatched up a pair of khaki chinos and shook them before Eriol's eyes. "They're not cute!"

"Well, then I suppose you'll have to stay home today," Eriol stated. 

"WHAT?!" Nakuru screeched. Spinel vigorously rubbed the inside of his left ear with his paw. "I can't possibly stay at home! I have a date with To-ya-kun!"

Spinel snorted. Eriol gave the tiny animal another disapproving look.

"What am I going to dooooooooooo?!" Nakuru howled.

"Nakuru, there's really nothing you can do until next week."

"But I have to go out! I can't stay at home all day! What will To-ya-kun do?"

"Probably weep with joy and thank the gods," Spinel said sotto voce.

Eriol ignored this remark and said, "Nakuru, there is nothing wrong with wearing men's clothing. I wear it all the time and—"

"But you're not cute!" Nakuru interrupted.

"Ah, yes, the crazy transvestite must preserve his image you know," added Spinel under his breath.

"Tomoyo would beg to differ on that one," Eriol protested rather drily.

"But Eriol, you really wouldn't look good in a skirt," Nakuru insisted. 

"Oh, no, on that point, Tomoyo-san would definitely beg to differ," Spinel said emphatically.

"Simply wearing a skirt on occasion does not undermine my manhood," Eriol declared with dignity. "In fact, it only—"

"Skirts. . . I loved wearing skirts," Nakuru broke in sadly. "I looked so cute in skirts. But I can't wear skirts anymore. And I had just bought the most darling skirt. . ." She began to weep. "And matching platforms! With eight-inch heels!"

"That's a shame," Spinel said sympathetically.

"And it was such a perfect shade of lime-green—"

"A very good color," Spinel added, shaking his head regretfully.

"And I was going to wear it today!" Nakuru cried. "What am I going to dooooooo?!" 

"Well, Nakuru," Eriol said, pausing to give Nakuru one last comforting pat on the shoulder before he walked out of the door, "I'm afraid you're going to have to decide, one way or the other."

"Suppi-chan," Nakuru moaned, "What am I going to doooooo?"

"Like Master said, you can just stay home."

"But I can't!"

"Then you have to wear these clothes."

"But—but—"

"Really, Nakuru," Spinel began, clucking disapprovingly. "You're not going to let this small mishap prevent you from going out today."

"But—" Nakuru cast a despairing glance at khaki-colored pile on the floor. "They're PANTS!"

"Kinomoto will be so disappointed." Spinel sighed. 

"To-ya-kun?"

"Yes, To-ya-kun. And he was looking forward to meeting you today."

Although Nakuru was flighty, she wasn't dumb. A rational—though the term must be loosely applied here—Nakuru would not have trusted Spinel's words. Yes, she glomped Touya. Yes, she called him, "To-ya-kun." Yes, she placed obscenely large posters of Touya on her walls. But she knew that Touya would never have said he would be disappointed in missing Nakuru. But in her present state (and recalling that she had been screaming for nearly an hour—an act that probably deprived her brain of much-needed oxygen), Nakuru wasn't thinking too clearly. 

"Oh, no."

"Oh, yes. Sakura-san said, and I quote, 'Oniichan told me he wanted to see Nakuru-san.'" 

"Sakura-chan said that?"

"Would Sakura-san lie?" 

Nakuru knew that Sakura-san would never lie. But that didn't mean that Suppi didn't. But recall that Nakuru wasn't quite herself.

"And I even heard Tsukishiro say that Kinomoto was expecting you today."

That did it. "Suppi-chan. . .h-hand me those. . .chinos, will you?"

"Um, Nakuru?"

"Yes?" Nakuru was pulling on the pants.

"I don't think you should, er, wear that with those chinos."

Nakuru looked down. "Oh, yeah, I guess you're right." Nakuru sighed. It was her favorite I'm-feeling-sexy-as-hell pair. A lacy thong with cute little bows that tied at the hips. But she couldn't possibly wear them. Sexy-as-hell panties would not go well with boring, un-cute khaki chinos. "Is there any men's underwear somewhere? I bet the sick freak that gave me these stupid pants probably left a pair of briefs. Pervert."

Spinel delved into a drawer. "You're in luck. Here," Spinel offered, popping up in a moment.

"B-BOXERS?!"

"Do you want briefs instead? I don't think I saw any there, but Master—"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!"

**********

"So, Spinel, what did you do with Nakuru's clothes?" Eriol asked a week later.

Spinel assumed a hurt expression. "What are you trying to insinuate, Master?"

"My dear fellow, don't try to dodge, you do it ill." Eriol crossed his arms over his chest and gave his creation a stern look. "Now, Spinel, what did you do with her clothes?"

Spinel looked all sweetness and light—an expression borrowed his master, of course—but Eriol was not amused. "Why, Master, I—"  
"Out with it, Spinel Sun."

When Eriol addressed the creature by his full name, Suppi knew the gig was up.

"I used them to clean the andirons."

"All of them?" Eriol asked. "The andirons aren't that dirty."

"No," Spinel admitted, "I guess not."

"So?"

"I used them for other things as well."

"What 'other things?'"

"Let's see. . ." Spinel knit his brows in thought. "I also used them to wax the car, polish the silverware, dust the chandelier—Oh, and I used some clothes to wipe up a particularly nasty mess I made on the kitchen floor." Suddenly, Spinel grinned. "I also used her clothes for some other things." Like that hideous burnt sienna bustier that Nakuru would insist DID go well with his complexion. (Which Spinel stuffed with pleasure into the fireplace and doused with kerosene.)

Ah, the hideous-burnt-sienna-bustier-look. Eriol knew that look because he often had that look on his face whenever Nakuru wore said bustier. (He often cursed the day he relented and bought Nakuru that outfit. Eriol had no idea that she had so much stamina to beg for that long.) "Well, I guess there's no great loss without some small gain."

"Indeed."

"But you know, Spinel, that was rather cruel. You know how much Nakuru hates men's clothing." 

"You were listening?"

"Of course—somewhat. By the way, I didn't appreciate that cold shower bath before my date."

"I know Tomoyo-san did."

Eriol ignored this remark. "Anyway, I think this has gone far enough." 

"But at least I gave him fashionable clothing," Spinel persisted. "I may be mean but I'm not heartless."

"Yes, I suppose so."

"Don't worry about it, Master. It's only temporary. And besides, this will give Nakuru a chance to buy some new clothes."

"Ah, but that's precisely what I'm worried about."

**************************************************************

NEXT INSTALLMENT:

What came to pass. The end of "Suppi's Revenge."


	3. And What Came of It

Part III: And What Came of It        

"I can't believe you cut it," Spinel remarked as he watched Nakuru arrange her hair.

"It was bothersome," Nakuru replied simply.

"But you were so proud of your wig," Spinel persisted.  He recalled the long, arduous hours of shampooing, deep conditioning, brushing and trimming Nakuru spent in keeping her tresses in that, "Don't-hate-me-because-I'm-beautiful" state.  When Nakuru told a beau that she had to wash her hair that night, it really wasn't an excuse.  So when Nakuru lopped off her locks, Eriol and Spinel were understandably stunned.

"I'm still proud of it," Nakuru returned, shaking back the long strands hanging in her eyes.

"I can see that," Spinel retorted as Nakuru preened.  "Nevertheless, Nakuru, it's quite a dramatic change."

"I suppose."  Nakuru peered into the mirror, checking her teeth.  She straightened and ran her hand through her hair once more.  "I'm going shopping today, Spinel.  Is there anything I can get for you?"

"Again?  This is really too much, Nakuru," Spinel scolded.  "You've gone shopping every day this week."

"But I wanted to check out the new men's line at Barney's."

"You did that yesterday."

"I only managed to get through the shoe department.  I simply must look at the sweaters.  They have a great collection of English wool in today."

There was no dissuading Nakuru when she was hunting for English wool sweaters.  Spinel recognized futility.  "Remember to buy Master a tie," he called out after the retreating Nakuru.  "You forgot the last time."

"Oh, right.  What color?" Nakuru asked, pausing before the door.

"Mauve."

"That color won't go well with Eriol's complexion.  I think a nice lavender or pale yellow will look much nicer."

"All right.  Just keep in mind that Master needs this tie tonight."

"Right.  Ja ne, Spinel."  And Nakuru disappeared around the corner.

"How strange," Spinel muttered to himself as he turned back to his book.  A mournful look came into his eyes as he unconsciously sighed.  "He didn't call me 'Suppi.'"

**********

"Look at that guy!" Sakura exclaimed in admiration.

"Who?"

"Him—over there!"  Sakura pointed to the tall figure striding a few meters ahead.  "Doesn't he look like a movie star?" 

Touya cast the youth before him an appraising glance.  "Well, he certainly dresses like one."

"Indeed," Yukito agreed, eyeing the black trousers, shining black oxfords and lean leather jacket.

"He looks handsome," Sakura continued.

"How can you tell?  You haven't even seen his face."  Touya noted to himself privately, however, that the guy had a pretty sweet a—

"I have to agree."  Yuki's voice cut Touya's thoughts short.  Which was a good thing, considering that Touya was heading in a direction that would have made Hiirigizawa blush (and Hiirigizawa, one of the naughtiest men in all Japan, did not blush often).  "I caught a glimpse of his profile and he seems really good-looking."

"He's a real pretty-boy, all right," Kero pronounced, peering over the top of Sakura's handbag.

"Kero-chan—"

"And you know," Kero continued, "Pretty boys are always conceited.  I'll bet he has mirrors all over the place—"

Sakura stared at the diminutive guardian.  Wasn't it this morning that Kero-chan recommended that she put 6x4 foot mirrors on all her walls?

"—And stacks of 8x10 glossies of his pretty-boy mug," Kero continued.

But didn't Kero-chan just ask Tomoyo-chan to print and blow-up two dozen screen-caps—all shots of himself—of an old video the other day?

I'd definitely like a glossy, Touya mused.  A nice big one of that yummy—

"I wonder who he is," Sakura murmured thoughtfully.  "He looks somewhat familiar. . ."

The youth paused before a storefront.

"Well, Sakura-chan, maybe you'll find out now," Yukito said.

"Whoever he is, he's really vain," Kero commented dryly as he watched the stranger preen before a plate-glass window.  "Just like I told you."

"Well, he—" Sakura began.

The stranger spotted the little group approaching him and turned to face them.  "Oh, hullo everyone!"

"AKIZUKI?!"

"Oniichan!"  "To-ya!"

But Touya was knocked out cold.

**********

"That's going to be a really nasty bruise," Kero observed as he peered under the white cloth that covered Touya's forehead.

"I hope Oniichan's all right," Sakura said worriedly.

"I'm sure he'll be fine," Yukito soothed.

"But Oniichan won't stop twitching. . ."

The group glanced at the tall man sprawled out in the neighboring booth.

"It will pass, Sakura-chan," Yukito assured her.

"So, what's this all about?" Kero inquired.

"Nothing, actually," Nakuru answered, sipping a cup of coffee.

"Oh sure," Kero snorted.  "Well, this 'nothing' sure scared 'Niichan spitless."

"And To-ya doesn't scare very easily," Yukito added solemnly.

"Seriously, what gives?" Kero asked again.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, look at you!" Kero began but Sakura abruptly stuffed an éclair into his mouth.

"Um, Nakuru-san. . ." Yukito said hesitantly. "Are you okay?

Nakuru looked blankly at him.  "What?"

"We're worried about you," Sakura replied.

"Why?"

Yukito took a deep breath and squared his shoulders.  Might as well take the bull by the horns, he thought.  "You've been acting rather strange lately. . ."

"Eh?"

"Nakuru-san. . ."  Sakura nervously fiddled with her napkin.  "We feel that. . .there's something wrong and. . ."

"Whatever do you mean, Sakura-chan?"

"Well. . ."  Sakura bit her lip.  "It's just that. . .It's just that. . ."

"You're wearing guys' clothes," Kero bluntly stated.

"Kero-chan!" Sakura exclaimed.

"What's the matter with that?  It's true, ain't it?"

"But it's rude!"

"It's okay, Sakura-chan.  I don't mind," Nakuru quickly interjected.

"So why'd you do it?  Dress like a guy, I mean," Kero queried.

"It's a long story.  But it boils down to this: I had no clothes to wear one day and so I had to wear this."

"How long has this been going on?" Yukito asked.

"About a month."

The group stared at Nakuru blankly for a moment.

"A month?"

"Yeah."

"B-but. . ."

"What?  You don't believe me?"

Sakura, Yukito, and Kero shook their heads violently.  (They had all seen Nakuru's closet.  There was no way in hell that Nakuru had no clothes to wear.  That was physically impossible.  Nakuru had a collection of clothing and shoes that would have made Imelda Marcos jealous.)

"Well, that's what happened."

"So, how does it feel?  Dressing like a guy?" Kero questioned after a moment's pause.

"It feels rather good, actually."

"I agree," Yukito said.  "I always feel a lot better wearing pants.  Skirts are definitely uncomfortable.  Especially short leather skirts.  The way they ride up—"

Sakura and Kero stared at Yukito.

"Is something wrong, Sakura-chan, Kero-kun?"

"Uh, nothing. . ." Kero responded hastily.  "So, uh, what does Hiiragizawa say to all this?"     

**********

"I'm really worried about Nakuru-san," Sakura murmured as they watched her stride jauntily away.

"I wouldn't worry about it, Sakura-chan," Yukito assured as he shifted the tall, unconscious burden slumped against his shoulders.  (Touya still hadn't recovered from the shock.)  "I'm sure it's just a passing phase."

"You really think so?" Sakura inquired.  A few meters ahead, a gaggle of girls approached Nakuru.  "Why, hello, ladies," they heard Nakuru purr.  The girls giggled.

"I'm certain that Akizuki-san will be fine."  Yukito smiled.  The girls tittered again as Nakuru flashed them a devilishly handsome grin.

"What I don't understand is how that freak gets all the girls," Kero grumbled.  "I'm much cuter than he is."

A large bead of sweat rolled down Sakura's head.  But before Kero could continue his rant, Yukito suggested mildly, "Shall we go home, everyone?  It's been a long day—and To-ya's rather heavy."    

**********

"You know, Spinel," Nakuru confided as she struggled into a cashmere v-neck sweater, "Men's clothing really isn't all that bad."

"Really?"  Spinel looked up from his book, surprised.

Nakuru nodded.  "Actually, I find it very comfortable."  Nakuru selected a belt and slipped it through the belt loops.  "And less worrisome.  You don't worry about whether that mango pashima shawl was too last season, whether you should carry the clutch bag or the tote or whether your pantyhose have a run."

"But you never wore pantyhose," Spinel pointed out.  "You always said that bare legs were sexier."

"I did?"

"Yes."

"Well, now I don't have to use Nair anymore."

"I suppose that's something," Spinel conceded.  "The stuff did make the house smell terribly."

Nakuru nodded.  "At any rate, it's a lot less hassle wearing men's clothes."

"But a lot less fun, no?" Spinel countered.

Nakuru, rummaging through the cupboards for a bottle of mousse, didn't hear him.  She finally found the bottle and squeezed a generous amount onto her hands.  "And, what's more," Nakuru added as she ran her hands through her hair, "I look damn good in men's clothing too."

"Well, at least some things don't change. . ." Spinel muttered to himself.

"What was that?" Nakuru asked, whirling around to face the tiny animal.

"Nothing."

Nakuru stared hard at the tiny guardian for moment.  Spinel tried to look nonchalant.  Nakuru shrugged and headed towards the door.

"All right, Spinel, I'm off," Nakuru called.

"Where are you going?" Spinel demanded.

"On a date."

"A date?  With Kinomoto?"

"No.  Her name's Kamiya Masako." 

"MASAKO?"

"Don't wait up for me!"  And Nakuru slammed the door shut.

It was only then that Spinel realized his revenge perhaps had gone too far.


End file.
